Icebreaker
by CrystalKat14
Summary: The Kingdoms have lived in a state of unequal power since the Clan founders departed to find a better life. For 50 years the Southern Kingdom has lived in fear of being completely wiped from existence by the Northern Kingdom. Their long kept tradition of pacifism may be shattered and war is brewing. A young prince is torn between duty to his Kingdom and loyalty to his conscience.


Icebreaker

**Hello there, I'm Crystal and this is my collaborated piece that I have written to coincide with my close friend, Pantherfang's ****Firewalker. ****You may have heard about me from her profile and origin story of the Kingdoms. Well, I decided to take a crack at writing my side story about another important cat which will have a substantial role in the final instalment. A bit of warning, as is my habit to be a little lazy and a devoted perfectionist, this is most likely going to be a VERY slow progressing fanfiction since it's something I only work on when I seem to be really lacking any other productive project (or avoiding one). But, I suppose that can be excused as this is just a side story and Pantherfang continues to write the central plot. So read, tell me what you liked and didn't like and regardless I'll post whenever I feel I can.**

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

_It was on a frosty twilight evening near the end of an intense season of Deep-Ice when the fires of war were once again ignited. Grass stalks, thinly in cased in a twilight frost, were swept by a crisp breeze on a plain that extended the distance between craggy, haunting peaks that disappeared into dark storm clouds, and dense woodland whose trees could easily grow to be as tall as the Mountains they rivalled. Through the lower canopy branches, a group of five extremely lean bodies move agilely forward to position themselves in a wavering line along the row of ancient sequoia that made up the border of the forest. Their lithe shapes are illuminated only by their intensely feral eyes that stared out onto the divider of a barren field, searching and watching warily._

_On a higher fork in the trees a bulkier shape can be distinguished. He stares out with less obvious fear than his apparent charges, to the exposed land spread before his prominent muzzle. However his thoughts are erratic and riddled with anxious worry for personal reasons. _

_The task ahead is simpler to be spoken than practiced. Get in, retrieve, and get out, before even a glimpse can be seen of their pelts. They want to avoid bloodshed; enough has been seen in past history and they tire of seeing precious blood spilt needlessly. He closes his eyes in a short prayer for the future. Hardly seen as signal to outsiders, but a signal nevertheless is enacted, before the leader leaves his post to nimbly travel head first down the tree's trunk, as easily as if he were running on flat ground. The small unit follows in unison._

_On the ground their bodies are all notably more rigid. The flat forest floor is alien to their paws. Rarely do they leave the tree tops, where it is safe from those with deadly fangs and claws, a kin to theirs. Youngsters are frightened by their mothers into never leaving the canopy for that reason, even more so than being careful of falling. This is why you can excuse these cats on their wavering bravery._

_The leader takes the first tender steps out into the open Field, as he must be strong in the presence of his knights to give them strength through their fear. Though his head is cautiously ducked and he moves as if on the tips of his claws, his followers are overwhelmed with admiration. His nose quietly sniffs the damp earth, searching for the link to complete their task. He then raises his head and the last rays of sunshine scramble to illuminate his majestic face. A rich tabby brown is his coat and the long angular features of his head are more exaggerated in himself than his companions, a strong heredity trait of his Kingdom. Their long, thin legs are strong; while their bodies as skinny and elongated, they should not be taken as a weakness, especially when these cats command the tree tops._

_Satisfied with the scents he detects, a quick flick of his head has the leading tabby front the patrol into the tall stems of the darkening plain, slithering with skilled silence through the stalks. They spread out to widen their searching girth, partnered in twos for added precaution. Only a few hundred heart beats pass but even this feels an eternity too long, out in the open for these forest dwellers._

_A pair detects a trail smelling of milk and birth, the scent distinct to a very young kit. _

_They call out in desperation abandoning the silent code of the mission. Hounding on the scent trail, the pair sprint in its wake. Then the sound of mewling reaches their ears as the path becomes fresher, this only adds to their already incredible speed. _

_... …._

_A blood-curdling cry splits the air as harshly as a lightning bolt does the sky. The royal tabby raises his head. His thoughts are only of horror while he turns around in the tight grassy clearing he finds himself located and bolts into the thick undergrowth. He now regrets the decision to remain solitary in his search. _

_He hears it then, the distant sound of a scuffle, clashing claws, snarls muffled only by teeth meeting flesh and fur. He quickens his already frantic pace, ignoring the weeds and shrubs that rip clumps of his once immaculate coat._

_A final strangled screech is a lasting stab to his heart that will haunt every waking dream of his future._

_A scene painted red is what greets him. Greenery splattered with precious life blood and the bodies of which it came strewn across the clearing, with limps expertly twisted in abstract angles and throats savagely hacked to the bare ivory bone beneath. They are all recognised as his comrades and friends…family. He restrains a cry of agony. Instead, he holds his breath, relishing in his spinning head. Pushing his anguish to the back of his mind he scans them for one pelt in particular, the smallest and most fragile of them all. With great pain in his heart he pushes bodies aside. His handsome muzzle is coated a crimson colour within a heartbeat, the sticky fluid making it difficult to breathe through his nose without choking on the smell._

_He does not consider how long he searched or why he had not been attacked in that time but it all comes to an end abruptly and painfully. The corpse has its throat shredded to ribbons just like the rest, her claws are unsheathed, reminiscent of the struggle that was futile; the body has collapsed into a flattened state, the broken bones and tears to the chest and hips caused by a greater weight rapidly pounding and ripping into the smaller body. She was a kit of only two moons, already renowned in the Kingdom for her courage and adventurous nature. Slaughtered. She was naïve to the conflict present hundreds of years before her birth, killed without her ever knowing why. Now she lies barely recognisable, squashed and torn among four other victims. The tom cannot take the pain any more. He bows his head and buries his nose into her fading scent, grieving for the loss of his infant sister. He cries; the only way he can physically, wheezing breaths as his throat tightens and his head throbs._

_It is a pitiful sight to see one so young and noble to be reduced to a broken state because of such horrific brutality. But from this and many others he learns to form a hard shell of insensitivity, as he experiences such violence repeatedly over the course of his life, like so many others in both recent past and forgotten memory. A murdered loved one is insignificant; as many other loved ones are destined to follow in the unending war between two great powers. But he vows to stop what he can, to save other innocent lives. He will do whatever it takes to bring about fragile safety._

_With gentle care he scoops the bloodied scrap of fur in his jaws, intending to take her back to be mourned by family and friends at home. The remaining dead are to be left behind; it would be too dangerous a task to return to this spot again, the enemy would surely take advantage of it.  
Or they had already._

_The tom's predatory instinct suddenly kicks in, with the sense of approaching danger. He tenses and listens, fear quickly rising. His ears frantically rotating in every direction, he spins around as he catches the sound of movement behind him and the scent which he had not noticed before now floods him with intense clarity. The killers had never left. He had walked straight into an ambush. He can see their eyes now, peering sharply out through the grass in his peripheral vision as his own eyes remain fixed forward at the pair directly in his frontal vision. He remains completely still, waiting for them to make the first move. He has a feeling of uncertainty about how much time has passed and in his lapse of focus an explosion of movement comes from all directions. All at once he drops the corpse of his sister in a silent cry of shock as he feels his flesh suddenly being torn apart, like he had seen the wolf packs do when hunting the giant stone-footed beasts to get to their precious meat. He has never felt in more sympathy with the prey than right now- but this pain is nothing compared with what will happen next. _

_He knows what is to come, as these chains of events never change; not with him, not with his ancestors, not with his descendants. A dark figure calmly steps out from the wall of grass he still faces, even while under attack. As his sides are being shredded and he is pinned, the dark cat bounds forward with casual ease, and lunges to close the distance with dangerous precision. Claws slide out, the starlight glinting across their stone edge, and teeth flash in the dying light. All he sees is the talons flying for his face and the exploding pain erupts as harshly as only a memory can create, leaving his sight assaulted by an even red. _

His eyes flew open and he became aware of the ache behind them and the pain down the middle of his forehead. The scar dividing his face between the eyes had healed long ago, but the memory was not as quick to fade; no cat could ever forget such an experience. The ringing in his ears that always came after such a nightmare was only recognised as an annoying side effect after all this time. He felt a presence in his den, and he looked up to the concerned face of his guardian at the entrance.  
"Your Highness? I've been trying to wake you for a while but you wouldn't. Are you ill?"

Bramble Scar blankly registered his guard's concern for a moment. Blinking rapidly, he sat up and stretched as if he had just woken from a sleep that had not left him feeling more tired than when he had fallen asleep.

"No, I'm fine. My back has been giving me trouble, that's all. Just enjoying what little sleep I can get," he lied smoothly, offering a sleepy smile to further divert any worry from his guard. It seemed to work, as he bowed his head in both respect and relief.

When the guardian, a grey and white splotched tom known for his meek and dreamy exterior, did not look to be about to say anything anytime soon, Bramble Scar turned his head to lick the ruffled fur on his back before stating patiently, "There's a reason you are here Mouse Cry."

Mouse Cry jerked his head up at the King's gentle prompt. Suddenly recalling his urgent message, he reported, "Ah, oh yes, of course! Your Queen, she is requesting your presence in naming the new Prince and Princess. The birth went as well as expected."

Bramble Scar hastily finished his grooming and stood, shaking his body with barely subdued eagerness to see his newborn children. "That is good. Vine Leg is an experienced maid worthy of her title. She is the only one I could trust with Fox Fire and our children's lives. She shall have an indulgent share of prey for her services." He padded past a faintly amused Mouse Cry, to step out of his den onto the branch high above the forest floor, just under the hollow in the great tree where the King and Queen often rested. The cats of the Southern Kingdom lived in the trees as soon as their claws could extend and their limbs become strong enough to haul their bodies skyward. They were born on the ground where it is easier to find shelter from weather and safe only from the risk of falling.

In a secluded part of the Southern Kingdom, knights stood guard, hidden in the trees around an old abandoned fox den to protect the Queen during her labour. They were prepared to throw away their lives to protect the future heirs to the Southern Kingdom. As Bramble Scar and Mouse Cry entered the den's perimeter, they reached out and alerted the guards in a mental greeting known as 'spirit drifting,' informing of their approach. It is difficult to explain the basic concept of communicating on a psychic level, but the feeling of drifting is described as like being able to stretch out a paw and touch and locate other living beings and recognise who they are. Particularly skilled spirit drifters, such as trained knights and royals can even go as far being able to hold conversations with each other and converse in secret without unwanted ears overhearing. The skill, although particularly ancient provided useful for the Southern Kingdom, more so than the Northern Kingdom, who saw it pointless doing anything more complicated than being able to locate the positions of their unfortunate enemy. The Southern Kingdom use it to be more in tune to their world, aware of each other's thoughts and feelings and of the other creatures of the forest and also in countering the Northern style and learnt to mask their spiritual presence.

Politely acknowledging the Knights chorus of congratulations and thanks for the delivery of the heirs to the Southern Kingdom, Bramble Scar ambled to the den's dark entry and carefully poked his head inside, blinking into the pitch darkness. "Fox Fire, it is I, Bramble Scar your King. Will you allow me to enter?" As is polite tradition in the South, all toms ask permission to enter the dens of mothers, recognising that there is no greater power than a she cat that is fiercely protective of her kits. The King is no exception to this natural law, in fact Bramble Scar believed in limiting his privileges, feeling it was unfair to put him above others just because of something like birth leadership. He saw that the cats of the Southern Kingdom should only respect and stay loyal to him as their leader and the one to protect them by providing order and direction through his decisions.

Bramble Scar heard the shuffle of leaves and sand alongside the tiny mews of protest as Fox Fire readied herself, before calling out permission for the King to enter. Bramble Scar nodded to Mouse Cry, "stay here, if you will." The guardian bowed his head and turned to face way from the nursery, dutifully alert for danger.

Bramble Scar ducked his head back into the hole and crawled down the tunnel which was quite narrow even for a cat. Blinking rapidly to adjust his vision to the darkness, the walls spread apart into a chamber of the den that was warm, almost stuffy as the air was thick with the breath of many bodies and the musk of milk. Bramble Scar purred deeply when he came into contact with his beautiful russet Queen, who gave a soft purr in reply and returned to licking the kits nestled at her belly.

"You have two strong kits who will be great heirs to our forest," Fox Fire spoke softly, tenderly licking the tom kit with the fur the colour of white gold that promised to shine brightly when he finally saw the light of day. Bramble Scar detected the sound of sadness in her voice, which alerted him to the fact that the space had a faint scent of death he learned belonged to the bodies of the three kits that had not survived their journey into life. "He will be a wise and merciful King, just like you. With the sun in his pelt he will save us, I sense it is his purpose." Fox Fire voice shook as she was deliberately avoiding the existence of her dead children, desperate to forget and move on with the children she had left. Bramble Scar nuzzled her cheek, assuring her with his presence and understanding. He instead thought for a moment on the naming of his only son. "He will be our Sun," He spoke finally and decisively. The Queen squinted up at her mate through the dark. Realising what he meant she gave a bell like purr in agreement. "If that is your wish then until he enters the ranks of his loyal Knights as their equal and becomes the future King he will be known as Blazing Sun, Prince of the Southern Kingdom. When he receives his Knight's honour, the world will be enlightened to his greatness."

The Prince was blessed and the King and Queen turned their proud attention to their only she kit, a princess with no less expectation upon her than her brother.

Bramble Scar observed the she kit performing instinctive activities demanding the care if her mother. Before he could reach a decision, the comfortable silence he and Fox Fire sat in was destroyed by a spontaneous peeling wail from the little princess. Both Bramble Scar and Fox Fire flattened their ears to their heads startled for a moment by her sudden outcry. Concerned that she may be in distress Bramble Scar gently touched his mind to his daughter's in a consoling act. What he did find however surprised him far more than her wail ever had.

"She is not hurt but her presence is overwhelming for a kit's. Did you notice this Fox Fire?" The Queen nodded gazing at the kit with proud smile, "I did the moment she was born. She is by far more energetic than her brother and she has on many occasions wailed like that before you came. I put it up to solely her natural personality at first, but feeling her presence shows that to be cause for her spirited nature." "Yes," murmured Bramble Scar, "she has a powerful spirit. This must be her divine gift from the Wolf, our Father." "Then let us name her for this." In the light of that declaration, the Queen of the Southern Kingdom christened her princess with the same words the King used to usher in his own heir. From that day she was known as Spirit Breeze, the headstrong princess of the South.

Fox Fire leaned down and affectionately nuzzled her daughter, now bundled up next to her brother at her belly. The little she-kit did not hesitate to push in front of him to get to their mother first even though Blazing Sun didn't really possess the ability to protest yet, only being a few hours old after all. "We may consider it a blessing from the gods," Fox Fire paused, her nose still pressed to her children's fur. Something resembling worry passed across her face and then unconsciously in her aura which Bramble Scar immediately picked up on. He pulled his gaze from his children to his mate. "…You think it'll bring her trouble as well? If the Northern Kingdom somehow gets wind that we have an heir, which could potentially give us hope in pushing back their power. They will want to have her murdered." Fox Fire snapped her head around to shoot a glare at her mate, which almost served to make Bramble Scar flinch, if they hadn't been surrounded by darkness. He could still tell she was angry. He didn't need any special skills to feel that. "Never voice those words ever again around them or I'll see to it your head really does split in half," Fox Fire seethed, "We can't allow those fears to hold them back. Cowardice will only limit their resolve to exploit their potential. What good will they be to us as a King or Queen like that?" Bramble Scar sighed and chose his words wisely.

"No child of ours could ever be less than brave and loyal to preserving the lives of every cat among these trees. I would never purposefully allow fear to cripple Spirit Breeze or Blazing Sun, nor do I think it would truly affect them to such an extent." The King stroked the flank of his Queen soothingly with his tail and nuzzled his head to her cheek. Fox Fire grudgingly allowed his gestures to placate her stirred emotions and she settled back down into her nest with a shuddering breath.

"I just want them to live a full life and experience what I have and more, that's all a mother wants for her kits, Bramble Scar. And I know you want that for them as well." Fox Fire definitely knew how much the safety of the young meant to her mate more than anyone. She was one of the few he had opened up to about how deeply affected by the failed mission to save his younger sister was. Though he was considered an experienced knight at the time, he was still young and naïve to blood baths and massacres of the kind.

Bramble Scar was silent for almost a full minute contemplating his next words. "I do, more than anything. However we can't possibly give them that much freedom and expect that they won't be found by those savages of the mountains. You understand I could never let them past the tree lines for as long as I'm alive, the risk is too great." We can't shelter them from the world for ever," Fox Fire reasoned. "But I can protect them with my life and the Wolf's love as my divine strength." Gazing at his kits with the most intense affection he declared. "If any Northern cat dares to threaten the life my children, they will therefore threaten me and the whole Southern Kingdom. For them, I will break the vow of passiveness that we have kept, since the time of my great grandfather's father. They are that precious to me."

Fox Fire said nothing. Though mildly disturbed by her mate's dangerous proclamation, she would remain steady by his side with any decision he would make. She did not mind, so long as it was all to protect her family.

_-_**Next: Chapter 2: High Expectations, Little Care**


End file.
